


Dishonorable Discharge

by mypoisonedvine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (adopted but still), Breeding Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Manipulation, Sibling Incest, innocence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:27:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypoisonedvine/pseuds/mypoisonedvine
Summary: you and your brother were always thick as thieves, even if you weren’t technically related.  you weren’t ready for him to leave to go off to war, but you were even less prepared for the shell of him that would return.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 120





	Dishonorable Discharge

**Author's Note:**

> please please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you! I do not condone or support the topics that I write about.

Even though you were adopted, people always said that you and Bucky had a family resemblance. It wasn’t your respective appearances per se, but rather the way your eyes both sparkled. Your parents sometimes joked that the two of you were more brother and sister than most brothers and sisters were— and they were right: even with the age gap, often the two of you felt like twins. It was hard to imagine that your biological parents could’ve kept you and that you never would’ve known him… it felt like he had always been your brother, your best friend, your partner in crime; your Jamie.

You had been awful when he deployed. You’d sobbed and screamed and beat his chest with your weak little fists. You’d told him that if he left, you would hate him forever; that if he left, he might as well never come back.

Of course you regretted it once you got older and realized how stupid you were. But you were only fifteen then, and heartbroken, and too selfish to understand that there were things more important than the promises you’d made to each other as children. You were so afraid that he wouldn’t come back and that you’d lose your only real friend in this world; and, like it often does, that fear turned to anger. 

By the time you were seventeen, you finally stopped crying and tried to make a life for yourself. You tried to see it all as an opportunity: he’d always been the popular one, meaning you were stuck being known as “Bucky’s little sister” rather than as your own person. Now you could just be you for once— as soon as you figured out who you were without him.

By nineteen, you had lost hope that he would return. You pretended to be at peace with that. You pretended not to hate yourself for pushing him away when you needed each other most. Silently, you thought of him every day; secretly, you went to church every night to pray for him.

It was the sort of neighborhood where you could leave your door unlocked, so you did. Still, people usually knocked first. You were wearing a nightgown you only wore around the house because it was much too short and small for you now, but with the hot weather, it was necessary. You hadn’t expected to hear the door open, so as you nervously peered out from the hall to the foyer, you were beyond surprised at what you saw.

The man in the doorway… he looked familiar. He was wearing your brother’s uniform. But his eyes were different. That sparkle you shared was long gone. And without it, you weren’t sure he was your brother anymore.

“Jamie?” you asked, unable to believe what you were seeing.

Recognition crossed his face like he was hearing the name of someone he used to know.

“Jamie,” you called again, your voice breaking as you ran to him; you wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tight enough to make up for all the lost time. “I thought I’d lost you,” you sobbed, “oh god, Jamie, I thought you were—”

“Shhhh,” he soothed, finally reciprocating the hug as one hand stroked the back of your head. 

“Don’t ever leave me again,” you begged. “I can’t lose you again.”

“I won’t go,” he promised softly.

And just like that, you were the same little girl who’d clung to his legs and begged him to stay all those years ago, but this time you’d gotten what you always dreamed of. This time, he wasn’t going to leave.

“You still like your eggs basted?” you asked him with a toothy smile, doing your best to keep things light. You had so many questions for him but you wanted him to just feel at home first. You two had always told each other everything, so you figured it wouldn’t be long until he told you what he’d been through in the last several years.

When you turned to receive the answer to your question, though, you found him spaced out in his seat at the dining table, staring off into nothing. You could tell he was thinking about something just from the way his eyes were glazed over; you could tell he was thinking about something unpleasant from the way his fist was tightened.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently. Silence.

You left your place by the stove, crossing the kitchen and kneeling down so you were eye-level with him. Hesitantly, you reached out to brush your hand against his face. He was certainly older-looking, and stubble dusted his jaw where it met with where his hair had grown out. You wondered if it was as strange for him to see you and how much you’d aged as it was for you to see him like this.

“Jamie,” you whispered, “come back to me.”

Finally, as your hand cupped his cheek, he turned to look at you. Even with a face that was hard to recognize at times, the eyes that met yours were undoubtedly your brother’s. Darker, yes, and clearly tired from everything they’d seen, but as blue and perfect as always.

“When you call me that,” he spoke, eyes scanning your face, “it’s like no time has passed at all. It’s like I’m still the same boy I was the day I left.”

You swallowed. “But you aren’t, are you?”

He shook his head, just barely.

“Hey, listen to me,” you instructed, getting more serious and refusing to let him break the eye contact. “It doesn’t matter what you’ve seen, or what you’ve done. You’re my brother. You’re my best friend. You’re my whole world—”

You choked up a little, but kept going.

“—and I’m glad you’re home, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed, smiling that crooked smirk that made your heart melt every time.

“You still want those eggs?”

He nodded a little.

“Basted?”

“Yeah, basted,” he agreed, turning back to the table as you stood up and returned to the stove.

“Your room’s the same as it was when you left,” you told him as you cracked the first egg into the hot pan. You were sort of nervous to bring up anything about that, but you thought he might find it comforting.

“I don’t think I’m ready to go in there yet,” he admitted. 

“Stay in my room tonight, then. It’s almost the same as it was then, too…”

“I’m amazed that bed can still fit _you_ ; are you sure we’ll both be able to sleep on it?” he asked.

“Oh, I was gonna give you the bed and make myself a pallet on the floor!” you clarified, wondering how he ever thought the two of you could share a bed; you hadn’t since you were _little_ little– like, under ten-years-old little.

But when you turned to look at him again, he seemed genuinely disappointed. “Of course I can’t let you sleep on the floor. You take the bed; I’ve got a lot of practice with sleeping on the ground anyhow.”

That was the last thing you wanted, him reminded of what it was like out there.

“We’ll share the bed,” you announced. “If I take off all the plushies and decorative pillows, there might just be room for you.”

“Woah woah woah,” Bucky raised his arms as if to motion for you to slow down. “We can’t just go evicting Mr. Hoppy! He’s been a full-time resident of your bed for the past twenty years!" 

You both laughed, and it was almost like old times.

"He’d happily move over for you, Jamie.”

The two of you brushed your teeth side-by-side in silence; you waited for him to finish his shower while you turned down the sheets, scooping up everything decorative on the bed and tossing it into the chair in the corner.

You choked a little when he stepped into your room with only a towel around his waist, using another to rub his hair dry.

“Don’t you have some pyjamas?” you asked awkwardly. “No matter— I actually have some of the pants you used to wear right here.”

You pulled the checkered pants from your closet, and handed them to him as he nodded gratefully; you barely turned around fast enough to look away before he dropped his towel.

“Why do you have these in here anyways?” he asked as you tried to ignore the sounds of the fabric brushing over his bare skin.

“I wear them, sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your face get a little warm, “when I miss you.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around you from the back and pulling you into a hug. You could feel the warmth of his chest and arms burning right through your silky shift. You almost wished you had worn something thicker; and yet, somehow, you also wished that there was no fabric in the way at all. 

Slipping under the comforter together, you wondered if it was odd that he was cuddling up to you. You didn’t mind it, since it was the most like the brother you remembered that he’d been all day, but some part of you was worried what people would think if they knew. 

You brushed the thought aside. Nobody would know anyways. 

He placed a kiss to the top of your head as you basked in how small it made you feel. “You smell the same as before, sissy.”

You used to hate that nickname but now it was beyond welcome. It reminded you of simpler times. 

“I hope that’s a good thing,” you replied.

“It’s a wonderful thing. The day your handkerchief stopped smelling like you was the day I thought I would lose all hope,” he recalled.

You remembered when he took it; he said he wanted something to remember you by, and you’d responded by telling him to just forget about you because obviously he never loved you at all.

“I was so cruel to you that day,” you cringed. “I hate myself so much for that…”

“Hey, hey,” he got your attention with a soft plea, guiding your chin until you were looking up at him with watery eyes. “You were a kid. I was, too. You acted out, it happens.”

“But I said things that weren’t true, Jamie— awful, terrible things…”

“I never believed them,” he assured you with a smile.

“We promised to never lie to each other,” you whimpered, “and I broke that promise.”

He shook his head. “It’s all in the past now. Just be honest with me from now on, and I’ll keep every promise I made.”

You remembered a pinky swear made up in the highest branches of a tree: a promise to never be apart. He’d broken that one, but maybe he wouldn’t do it again. The thought made your heart flutter.

“Be honest,” he instructed you again. 

“Always,” you agreed.

“Do you love me?” he asked, so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“O-of course,” you answered quickly, stuttering not because of any lack of surety but simply from wondering how he could ever question that.

Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, his thumb and forefinger still holding your chin. For a brief moment it felt believable as a familial kiss.

But then it didn’t.

He began to move his mouth against yours, and instantly you pulled back, looking at him with what you figured must have been an expression of stunned confusion. “Jamie,” you mumbled in disbelief.

“I missed you so much,” he purred, seeming to ignore your reluctance. “Don’t break my heart, sissy, I just want a kiss.”

“I can’t kiss you like that,” you shook your head.

“Please? You have no idea how lonely I’ve been, how hard it was without you…”

You felt guilty for his pain, and you had always hated to deny him of anything. The absolute second that you gave him a hesitant nod, he dove right back in, kissing you deeper and harder than before. His tongue forced its way into your mouth but you couldn’t pull back; his arm had somehow gotten to the back of your neck, holding you close to him.

You whimpered with confusion when you felt his other hand moving up your leg and slipping under your nightgown. He smiled against your lips when his fingertips brushed over your hips and he realized that you weren’t wearing undergarments. You internally cursed yourself for it, even though it was normal not to wear anything underneath a gown like this. What was abnormal was what he was doing.

“You’re so _smooth_ , and soft,” he murmured, just barely pulling back from the kiss, “and I know you want me so bad—”

Just as his hand started to move dangerously close to somewhere it was definitely not supposed to be, you reached down and stopped him by grabbing his forearm. 

“D-don’t,” you managed to stammer out.

“Don’t?” he repeated incredulously. “Well, why not?”

“It’s wrong…” you explained weakly.

“Such a good little girl, just like always,” he chuckled. “You haven’t changed at all. Except, of course, this incredible body…”

It was much too easy for him to wriggle out of your grip, pulling out from your nightgown only to reach up and roughly grab your breasts through it. Your face was burning and your gut sank with fear— and yet, there was a paradoxical tingle of arousal burning between your legs.

“You’ve grown a lot while I was gone,” Bucky noticed aloud, groaning softly as he felt you up. “Almost didn’t recognize you when I stepped in. I saw those gorgeous legs of yours and thought, ‘who’s the fox and what’s she doing in my house?' Of course, by the time I’d realized it was my kid sister, it was too late.”

“It’s not too late,” you desperately assured, “you can stop now, and we won’t tell anybody, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened—”

You stopped as he started laughing lowly, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I’m not coming back from this, don’t you understand? You were all I thought about while I was gone. You’re the only girl I ever loved.”

His hips pressed forward and you gasped when you felt his erection pressing into your thigh. You bit down on your lip to keep it from quivering; for some reason, you didn’t want him to know how scared you were.

“Feel that?” he asked, grinning when you nodded nervously. “That’s how much I love you.”

You stammered helplessly as he reached down between your legs again. 

“Time to find out how much you love me,” he purred, and you were frozen; paralyzed. Two of his thick fingers swiped through your folds, gathering the arousal they found there. “Oh, you love me quite a lot.”

“I— I don't—”

“Take this thing off,” he demanded suddenly, grabbing your nightgown. You shook your head. “I’m not gonna ask you again,” he informed you sternly. “Take it off or I’m gonna rip it off'a you.”

You shook your head again, tears flowing freely until you felt wet patches beside your face on your pillow.

Bucky growled and manhandled you onto your back, grabbing at your nightgown and pushing your arms out of the way when they reached up to cover your chest.

He tore through it like it was paper. “Look at you,” he murmured in awe, “all grown up.”

“James,” you sobbed, “what are you doing?!”

“I’m taking care of you!” he responded, seemingly confused that you would even ask that. “You’re my baby sister; I promised to always take care of you and I meant it.”

“This isn’t right,” you whispered, partially to him but mostly to yourself.

“This is the _only_ thing that’s right,” Bucky disagreed, leaning down a little to hover over you as he began to push his pants down.

You recoiled when you saw his cock; you hadn’t seen one before, except in drawings. They hadn’t prepared you for this. His looked big, red at the tip like it was angry; leaking and throbbing like it was desperate.

“You a virgin, sissy?” he asked in a way that made it hard to tell if he was being genuine or mocking you.

You nodded; you’d promised to be honest, after all.

“You were saving yourself for me,” he informed you, and before you could deny it, he continued, saying everything like it was obvious fact. “You knew you needed me. You knew you’d only be satisfied by your big brother’s cock.”

You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes, your protests muffled as he roughly kissed you again. You tried to push him away but he was like marble, hard and unyielding. You felt his sex sliding over yours and it made you feel dizzy and a little nauseous.

“You know how long I’ve dreamed of being inside you?” he asked darkly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know how long I’ve wanted to get a taste of this perfect little cunt? I’ll give you a hint: it was before I left.”

He ignored your sobs of fear and cries of pain, and pushed his hips forward; he groaned as his cock forced your walls to part, and you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

“Oh god,” he moaned weakly when he bottomed out, “oh my fucking god… you feel so perfect, sissy. You feel so fucking good, I swear I could come right now. I could fill you up—” he pulled back out most of the way and shuddered— “right fucking now.”

“N-no, Jamie,” you sobbed, “you have to pull out, you can’t come inside!”

“Why not?” he pouted, slamming into you so hard that you were forced to choke out your cry of pain. “I think you want it. I think I deserve it. I could get you pregnant and then you’d be mine forever.”

“No!” you sobbed. “Please, you can’t!”

“I can,” he assured you coldly through his teeth, his arm wrapping around your neck to hold you steady as he fucked into you. “I can, little girl, and I’m gonna.”

Tears streamed down your face, even as you let yourself admit that your brother’s movements inside you did feel… intriguing, to say the least. He buried his face into your neck, fucking you deep but slow. You’d never felt so full before; you wrapped your legs around his hips before you could stop yourself.

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you want me so damn bad, don’t you? You always wanted me. I remember how you got so jealous when I lost it to Betsy Miller.”

As sick as it was, you had; and even now, imagining him doing this with her made your stomach twist.

“You want me all to yourself, don’t you, sissy?”

Shamefully, you nodded.

“Aw, it’s okay,” he soothed. “You’ve got me, sis. ’M never gonna leave ya. We’re gonna be together forever, just like we always said.”

That was all you’d ever wanted. Why did it sound so terrifying now?

“I can feel you squeezin’ me, babydoll. I know you wanna come all over my cock,” he taunted.

“N-no,” you stumbled over your denial, but pleasure was searing through you faster than you could handle it.

“Beg me to fill up this little pussy,” he instructed as his eyes got darker and a hand wrapped around your throat. “Beg or you don’t get to breathe.”

“Please,” you moaned through your tears, “please, fill up my— my little pussy…”

“Yeah? You want my come?”

He started thrusting faster and you could feel the way your arousal had spread to coat both his thighs and yours; why was your body so responsive?

“Please, Jamie, I want your come,” you repeated. “I need it…”

“I know you do,” he snarled, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. “I know you do, baby, I know you need my come.”

“Please…” you repeated one last time, the word coming out choked and weak as you felt your own orgasm starting to crash into you, your whole body tightening involuntarily.

“Fuck, I can feel you coming— ’m close, sissy, I’m not gonna last much— _oh fuck_ —!”

His hips stuttered to a stop and you winced as you felt him flexing inside you, pumping his load into you for what felt like ages.

He collapsed on top of you with a sigh and a smile. “I wanted to last longer, even jerked off in the shower to try to take the edge off but… you just felt too good.”

You were silent and still beneath him as he rambled, kissing away your tears between each word.

“I’ll take better care of you next time, sis, don’t worry. Wanna make you come with just my tongue,” he announced excitedly. “But that’ll wait until tomorrow. Tonight you just relax, and don’t move too much so I can stay inside you. It’s the only way I’m gonna be able to sleep.”

He hugged you all night, drifting off even while you were wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

You were horrified at what your brother had become, and at what he had done to you. But that wasn’t what kept you awake. No, you couldn’t sleep because you were too busy trying to deny how much you had enjoyed it.


End file.
